Arrows of Eros
by xXdreameaterXx
Summary: This is a collection of Tumblr prompt OneShots. Some AU. Some fluffy, some smutty, some completely different. Whouffaldi
1. The Surprise Date

_I've started taking Tumblr prompts and to avoid cluttering my account with OneShots, I've decided to put them all under one story. The rating is gonna differ, so I'm posting this under M for later chapters._

 **01 I'm getting hit on by a creep can you please pretend you're dating me?**

 **The Surprise Date**

Clara was impatiently tapping her foot on the wooden floor while checking her watch over and over again. She took another sip of her drink when finally her phone rang.

"Where are you? I've been waiting for almost an hour!"

"Sorry, Clara, I can't make it," her friend said on the other end of the line, "My boyfriend sprained his ankle. We just got out of the doctor's office."

Clara heart sank. She hadn't been keen on _girls' night out_ in the first place and now she was stuck here alone, but she found it hard to stay mad at her friend under these circumstances. She sighed into the phone.

"Alright," Clara said after a while, "Take care of your man and give him my best, okay?"

"Will do. Hope you still have a nice evening."

And then the line went dead. Clara stared at her almost full glass, deciding it would be a waste to just leave a rather tasty cocktail sitting here. She would leave after she had finished her drink and the _Cat and Canary_ wasn't a bad pub after all, nicely furnished and it was still early evening, so the chatter around her was still at a bearable level and from her seat she had a lovely view over the water.

"What's a sweet chick like you doing sitting here all alone?" a male voice right behind her, too close to her own ear for her liking, suddenly said.

Clara shot around, staring at a young man. She noticed his eyes wander to all sorts of places but her face.

"I, uhm, I'm actually waiting for someone," Clara lied. She hated being talked to like that, but she found that it worked better to politely decline their advances than to be rude.

"Yes," the man replied, sliding into the seat across the table, "I think you've been waiting for me."

Clara laughed. This guy was unbelievable. "Yeah, I don't think so. Please, could you sit somewhere else before my date gets here?"

"Would you tell me to leave even if I said you were the most beautiful woman in London?"

"That's, uhm, flattering, but I really am meeting someone, so if you please. . ."

"What's your name?"

Clara groaned and as she turned her head towards the door she saw the perfect excuse step inside the pub at that very moment. He was a silver fox, wearing an elegant and expensive looking suite, no ring on his finger – he was perfect. Clara jumped up from her seat immediately.

"Heeey, there you are," she said excitedly, "I thought you'd never get here."

Clara had approached the stranger, who stared back at her in utter confusion as she laid her hands on his arms and pretended to give him a peck on his cheek.

Instead of doing that, she whispered into his ear. "Can you please pretend to be my date, that guy over there is not taking no for an answer."

With a smile on her face, Clara pulled back from him, but the handsome stranger still seemed confused.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand?" he asked, his voice low.

"That creep over there is hitting on me," Clara whispered, nodding in his direction, "Can you please sit with me to get him off my back? I promise, I won't bother you."

It took him a moment, but after a few seconds the man finally seemed to have understood. He smiled at her.

"I'm so very sorry," he said loudly and for everyone to hear, a hint of a Scottish accent in his voice, "Traffic was horrible."

"Well, better late than never:"

Clara led him back to her table where the young man who had been trying to flirt with her looked rather flabbergasted.

"Darling, what's this young man doing at our table?" the stranger asked her, not without a mocking undertone to his voice.

"I, uhm, I, . . .," the man spluttered, "I was just. . ."

"Leaving?"

"Yes, leaving," the young man quickly grabbed his jacket and hurried off.

Clara slid back into her seat while the stranger sat down in front of her, an odd smile on his face and he looked as if he was about to burst into laughter.

"It's not funny," Clara said, "He really was annoying. Thank you for saving me."

"My pleasure," he replied, "I'm John, by the way, John Smith."

"Clara Oswald, and, can I call you my hero? Seriously, thank you for saving me. I was supposed to meet my friend here but she bailed on me the last second. I just wanted to finish my drink in peace when this idiot showed up."

"Ach, he's a pudding brain. He can't help it."

They both chuckled and Clara sipped her drink as she watched John reach for the menu.

"Do you want to eat something while you're here? It's on me."

"Oh," Clara uttered, "Nooo, I couldn't. I really just want to finish my drink."

"Are you sure?" he raised an eyebrow at her, "It's not gonna look like much of a date if I'm the only one eating."

She looked at the menu in his hand and had to admit that she did feel a little hungry, but she couldn't have John pay for her dinner after she had forced herself on him like this. Apparently he had sensed her reluctance.

"Clara, I mean it," he said sincerely, "If you are hungry, I would love to pay for your dinner. I've had a really bad day at work and my originally plan was to go to the nearest pub and get steamin but if the alternative is spending the evening with a lovely woman over a nice meal, I'd prefer that."

Clara couldn't help but smile. He was a nice, good looking and appeared to be a true gentleman, so there really wasn't any reason for her to decline.

"I've heard the chicken wings are really good," she replied.

Despite the pub slowly getting crowded their dinner didn't take too long to arrive and Clara hungrily bit into her first wing.

"You were right. They really are good," John confirmed and Clara had to agree.

"So, what do you do? For a living, I mean."

John shrugged. "I'm a doctor. I'm working just around the corner. And you?"

"I'm a teacher at Coal Hill school."

"Really?" John's eyes widened, "My niece goes to that school. Maybe you know her? Jenny Smith. Red hair, freckles."

"Ohh, yes," Clara smiled, "She's in my English class. Bright little girl. Feisty."

He swallowed and cleared his throat. "I pick her up from time to time, when my schedule allows it. I don't think I've ever seen you around school."

"Maybe you have and you just forgot," Clara shrugged, giving a short laugh.

But John's face remained serious. "No, I'd remember seeing you."

Clara had no idea what to reply to this very obvious compliment.

"Next time I pick up Jenny, would you mind if I came in to say hi?" John asked.

She granted him a shy smile. "No, I wouldn't mind."

"Would you say hi back?" he chuckled.

"Oh," Clara replied, "I think I'd even go a step further and ask you out for a meal to say thank you for this one."

She looked around to her empty glass and plate and a glance at her watch told her that it was nearly closing time already. She hadn't even notice the time pass.

"Well, John Smith," Clara began, a smile still on her face, "I had a really nice evening and I suspect I will be seeing you soon?"

"Very soon," John confirmed, "And thank you for your lovely company. It was definitely the better alternative to getting drunk."

Clara giggled as she got up and slipped into her coat. "I'm glad I could lighten your spirits. Good night, John."

"Good night, Clara."

As Clara headed out into the fresh air, she wore a smile on her lips. Tomorrow she would have to thank her friend for standing her up, otherwise she would have never met John Smith and she was already looking forward to seeing him again.


	2. Havoc at Ikea

**The Doctor (John Smith) and Clara can't find their way out of Ikea, so they try to cause as much havoc as needed to get them kicked out of the shop.**

 **Havoc at Ikea**

John Smith was walking around the corner for what felt like the 50th time. This shop was a maze and he was more likely to spend the night here than to find what he was looking for and head home. He shouldn't have sold half of his furniture along with his house in Glasgow when he had moved to London, though back then it had seemed reasonable to just buy new things instead of paying roughly the same amount of money for the transport to London.

Luckily he had already bought the basics and was just looking for some more shelves and maybe a little décor. Pillows and new bedsheets probably wouldn't hurt either.

"Argh, fuck me!"

John turned around to the female voice behind him who had been swearing loudly. It was the lovely, young brunette that he had already spotted a couple of times while walking around the same corridors over and over again and apparently she was as lost as he was. John hardly even noticed that he was staring at her when suddenly she spoke directly to him.

"You don't happen to know the way to the exit, do you? I can't spend another minute in this hell hole!"

John only shrugged. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I got a little lost as well."

The woman groaned and sank down on the sofa right next to her, obviously positively surprised of how cosy it was because a few seconds later she was checking the price tag – and groaned again.

"Looking for a new sofa?" John asked.

"A new everything," the woman said, seemingly irritated, "I used to live with a friend but she got engaged and yadda, yadda, so I'm moving into a flat of my own. Only about half of my things actually survived the move."

John decided that his feet could use a little break as well so he sat down next to her. The sofa really was comfortable.

"Yeah," he exhaled sharply, "They don't make things that last these days. My parents owned the same set of furniture for most of their marriage. Got them all for the wedding and the last old cupboard was replaced at their 50th wedding anniversary."

The woman hummed in reply, her eyes fixed on something in the distance.

"So what do we do? Ask a shop assistant for the way out?" John suggested.

She snorted. "Good luck finding one. I've seen _one_ in the two hours I've already spent in here and he vanished as quickly as he had appeared."

"Maybe if we caused a little havoc they would notice and someone would show up and throw us out?"

The woman turned around to look at him. She seemed more than intrigued. "What kind of havoc?" she asked, her eyebrow raised.

John stood up from the sofa and walked a few steps forward to one of the display living rooms. He looked around before he took one of the pillows from the armchair and placed it right on the shelf next to some Swedish books. The fake plant went right in front of the television before he dropped a couple of random décor items on the couch.

When John turned back to the woman, he found her laughing.

"What do you think?" he asked, pointing at his creation.

"I think you really suck at interior design," she replied, still giggling, as she got up to see his work from up close.

"Hey, _that_ ," he said, pointing at the pillow on the shelf, "is first class art, my dear."

"Yeah, but is it enough to get us kicked out?" she asked and shortly after vanished behind the fake wall of the display living room.

A moment later she re-emerged, holding a toilet brush and looking really proud. Carefully she placed it on the dining room table.

"Just for the record," John said when he joined her there, "I wouldn't let you decorate my house either."

The woman shrugged and headed back in the bathroom. John was confused for a second, before he heard her shouting.

"Oh no!" she yelled, "They're completely out of toilet paper! And the flush isn't working either!"

John burst into laughter and looked around, but still there was no one in sight.

"I'm afraid your little trick isn't working."

The woman popped her head through the doorway and he could see that she was more than ready to curse again, but a new idea seemed to have struck her.

"Come on, let's move on to the dining room," she said and grabbed his hand before he could protest, dragging him along, "Just play along, okay?"

She took two plates out of the kitchen cupboard along with some of the silverware and placed all of it neatly on the dining room table.

"Honey, dinner is ready!" she called jokingly, pointing at the chair John was supposed to sit in.

"How lovely, darling," he replied with a smile and thought he noticed a hint of a blush sweep over the woman's face, "What are we having?"

She sat down at the other end of the table and opened her handbag and produced two plastic wrapped sandwiches.

"You can't-" John attempted to stop her, thinking that it might go a little too far, but the woman had already placed a sandwich on each plate.

"You started this," she reminded him, looking at him playfully, "You're gonna see this through with me. Now, darling, please, use the cutlery. My grandmother gave it to us for our wedding and she insisted that we use it."

As soon as they had taken their first bite they both burst into laughter, not even stopping as the first people started to notice what they were doing and gave them a couple of suspicious looks. John couldn't help it. Despite the trouble they both could get into he was enjoying this. He couldn't even remember the last time he had had so much fun with a complete stranger and he was beginning to feel flattered that a beautiful and much younger woman like her had started this charade, assuming the role of his wife. Just looking at their age she could've been his daughter.

"I'm so sorry, darling, but I'm afraid your marvellous cooking has made me forget my wife's name," he said with a smile.

The woman was still giggling. "I'm Clara. And what's the name of my loving husband?"

"John," he replied, "And since you did all of the cooking, it would seem only fair that I do the dishes."

Once they had finished their sandwiches, not without receiving some more amused stares from passing shoppers, John started picking up the dirty dishes and brought them into the kitchen next door. He turned the tap, but of course there was no water.

"Honey, I think we've got a plumbing problem in the kitchen as well as in the bathroom. No running water," he called into the dining room.

Clara immediately joined him in the kitchen, feigning horror at their lack of water.

"Oh no, darling, can you fix that?" she asked.

John smiled as he opened the cupboard under the sink and went down in his knees, looking into it.

"I'm not an expert, but it seems as if someone forgot to install water pipes," he said and looked back up to Clara, who, if he wasn't too much mistaken, had been checking him out.

"You know what," she said after a moment, "If you were my husband, I'd probably have you shag me on the counter now."

"Uhm," John spluttered in reply, "I'm. . . uh, I'm sorry?"

"I think we should call a plumber tomorrow morning. The 24 hour services are too expensive. I'm feeling tired. Care to join me in bed?"

Before John could even remotely wrap his mind around what Clara had just said, she had disappeared through the next door, which, he guessed, led to the bedroom. He followed her wordlessly, watching as Clara kicked off her shoes and skidded over the hardwood floor until she landed on what looked like a very soft and cosy bed.

"Come on, John, no proper havoc without an unmade bed," she said, holding up the duvet for him.

Reluctantly he took off his shoes as well and he couldn't help but wonder if there was any more behind Clara's act. She was so beautiful, so warm, so funny in the craziest of ways, a part of him just wanted a chance beyond getting kicked out of Ikea.

"Oi, silver fox, hurry up before my arm gets tired!"

John stepped forward, considering his next move until his feet already hit the bed and he still had no idea what to do, so he simply followed Clara's order and let her cover both of them with the duvet. It was eerily quiet under the blanket except for the rustling of the fabric and John grew increasingly nervous.

"Are you married, John?" Clara suddenly asked in a low voice.

"No."

"Girlfriend?"

He swallowed. "No."

"Gay?"

"What?" John asked back in confusion. Did he give off that kind of vibe? Was that why Clara was so ready to play house with him, cause it had felt safe for her to do so?, "No."

"I bet we'd get kicked out of we made sex noises," Clara whispered and he could hear the giggle she was holding back, "Though I'm not so keen on leaving anymore."

"Oh?" John uttered, not really knowing what else to say. Being so close to her seemed to make his brain go a little fuzzy. He really wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her.

"Yeah, it's been kind of fun. At least for me," Clara admitted.

"You're right," he agreed after a moment, "It was fun. _Is_ fun."

"John?"

"Yes?"

He heard Clara take a deep breath and then nothing for a long moment. Suddenly her lips were on his own and John needed a moment to understand what was happening until he finally opened his mouth to her. His heart was almost jumping out of his chest in excitement. Kissing Clara felt better than he could've imagined it. Just as he was ready to close his arms around her and pull her closer he heard someone clear his through right next to them.

Clara either hadn't heard it or she was ignoring it deliberated because she pressed herself a little closer against him and uttered the tiniest moan.

"Excuse me, I'm going to have to ask you to come with me," a male voice right next them said strictly.

This time neither of them cold ignore that they had obviously been caught and when John broke the kiss and raised the duvet he could clearly see the Ikea employee standing next to the bed, looking more than just unamused at the sight of them.

Grabbing their shoes and bags they followed the man into a small office just around a few corners and listened to his speech about violating the rules and ruining shop property. He explained that they were officially banned from visiting the shop for three months as he led them to the exit.

"I'm sorry," Clara said as soon as he had taking a lungful of fresh air, "I didn't realize they'd ban us from Ikea altogether."

John only shrugged. "It's okay. I think I can survive three more months without an additional bookshelf."

"And I guess I can sleep on my mattress for a bit longer."

"You know," John said, turning around to look at Clara, "There's a really nice shop for furniture about an hour outside of London. I got all my things from there. I admit, it's not quite as modern as Ikea, but maybe you'll find something you like."

"I don't have a car," Clara admitted sadly.

"I could drive you. Since I already know where it is."

He had attempted to sound casual, but a knowing smile immediately spread over her face. He'd blown it.

"I'd love that," she replied to his surprise, "Maybe I'll even reward you with a real home cooked meal."

John beamed at her in reply. Maybe, _maybe_ there was a small chance that playing house with Clara would soon turn into more than just a way to get kicked out of Ikea.


	3. Christmas Dinner with the Oswalds

**Original Prompt: I've been living with you for a while, since I've lost my flat, and you don't have enough room for everyone when your family comes over for holidays, so I'm staying in your room with you and we're pretending to date so they don't find it odd**

 **My Take: The Doctor is forced to stay with Clara while the TARDIS is recalibrating when Clara's family spontaneously decides to come over for Christmas dinner. Not knowing how else she could explain his presence, Clara tells her family that the Doctor is actually her new boyfriend – John Smith.**

 **Christmas Dinner with the Oswalds**

"My family insists on coming over for Christmas dinner – and yes, they are staying over night!"

The Doctor looked up from the radio he had just taken apart to 'improve' it, apparently at as loss as to why Clara felt the need to tell him this.

He cocked an eyebrow. "So?"

" _So?"_ Clara asked back angrily, "How long did you say would it take for your TARDIS to recalibrate?"

"Uhm, a week?" the Doctor glanced out of the window. Clara knew that the TARDIS was parked on the lawn in front of the building, yet it couldn't be seen from where he was sitting. And he was still not getting the point.

"And when's Christmas?" Clara demanded to know.

It took a moment for the Doctor to realize that the date in question was tomorrow as Clara could plainly see on his face. They had exactly 24 hours to figure out a good excuse for why he was living with her – or get the TARDIS to recalibrate a little faster.

"Oh," he uttered and quickly looked back down to the radio he had been tinkering with, "Don't worry, Clara. I'll retreat to my room and pretend I'm not here. You will hardly notice me at all. Though I would ask you to save me some of the turkey."

Clara highly doubted that. After a little crash landing the Doctor had been staying with her for the last two days and her flat was already a mess and Clara only had a vague idea of what a night of peaceful sleep meant. And there was another matter.

"Doctor, my flat is not a TARDIS. I only have my own bedroom and the living room, the one you're currently occupying and my family is going to need that."

The Doctor looked up at her again, dropping the screwdriver on the couch table. "Why didn't you tell them you already have a guest over for Christmas?"

She groaned in response. "Cause I didn't want to explain why there is a middle aged man who actually is a 2000+ year old Time Lord, who they have met by the way when he looked a teensy bit different, living with me."

"And don't you think they will ask about me when they actually _see_ me?," he made a little tsk tsk noise, "Clara, your thinking is terribly faulty."

"I knooooow," Clara sighed as she sank down on the sofa next to him, burying her face in her hands. She would have to come up with a solution, and she would have to come up with it soon. She couldn't pawn the Doctor off to anyone else, not without explaining who he was. She couldn't say he was one of her colleagues, who had gotten kicked out by his wife, and make him sleep in the living room with her family – or they would know in the matter of an hour that he was certainly not a teacher. There was only one possible solution.

"Okay," Clara sat back up, taking a deep breath, "Here's how we do it. We will share my bedroom, because I cannot leave you unattended with my family, and we will tell them that you're my new boyfriend. It's bad, but not as bad as a 2000 year old Time Lord who travels through time and space in a blue box. As long as you don't show up naked again, we'll be fine."

She jumped off the couch, ignoring the utterly confused look on the Doctor's face.

"And now you're helping me clean this place. You're the one who made this mess in the first place and we're gonna go over some rules regarding my family," Clara decided.

 **OOO**

Clara checked her watch every five minutes, knowing that the moment her family would arrive was drawing closer and closer. This Christmas was a nightmare and it hadn't even started yet. The Doctor was sitting on the sofa, twirling a Christmas cracker in his hands, looking grumpy because Clara had forced him to take a shower and while he hadn't been looking she had quickly grabbed his clothes and thrown them into the washer. He sniffed at his hoodie again.

"I hate the smell," he complained for the 5th time in the last two hours.

"It's just fabric softener," Clara reminded him, rolling her eyes, "You look like a space trash hobo, the least I could do was make sure you look like a clean space trash hobo. How long has it been since you washed them anyway?"

The Doctor turned his head and stared out of the window.

"Okay, as soon as your TARDIS is letting us in again, we'll get one of your better suits and leave it in my closet," she said and upon realising that she had just suggested he left some clothes at her place, quickly added, "In case of emergencies."

Her eyes wandered to his restless hands that were still playing with the Christmas cracker.

"And can you please stop that?" she asked, "You're making me nervous."

The Doctor threw the crack back onto the couch table. "Oh, _you're_ nervous? At least you're not the one who is going to be introduced as fake boyfriend."

Clara began to giggle. "You're not saying that you're nervous to meet my family? You _have_ met them already, and it went relatively well, seeing that you weren't wearing any clothes. Granny loved you."

"Yes," he spat, "Because I was young and good looking and naked."

"1100 years is young by your standards?" she raised an eyebrow at him, but the Doctor only scowled.

Then the doorbell rang and Clara took a deep breath.

"Here they come," she said, turning towards the Doctor, "Please, be nice."

She opened the door for her excited family, who came loaded with luggage and gifts and were competing to be the first to hug Clara. She flung her arms around her grandmother first, telling her how much she had missed her, and continued to hug her dad. Linda was greeted with a courtesy kiss on each cheek and Clara soon noticed how crowded the hallway became. It was now or never.

"There's something I need to tell you," Clara said and suddenly found her voice wavering. Her grandmother looked at her expectantly as if she already knew what was to come and Clara felt at a loss. How should she begin?

"Remember how you all said that I should probably think about going out again? Well, I have, in fact, found someone. And he's here today, waiting for you in the living room."

Her grandmother looked overjoyed, her father doubtful – what Linda thought was of no interest to Clara at all.

"His name is John Smith and we met last year already, actually, when he was filling in for the caretaker at my school. I wanted to wait til after Christmas to tell you, but you sprang this on me at the last minute and John's. . . house . . . is being renovated so he had no place else to go."

She paused, waiting for someone to say something. Her grandmother was the first to put on a smile.

"Well, what are you waiting for, honey? Show us the man!"

Clara laughed nervously and led everyone into the living room where, to her surprise, the Doctor had already started to set the dinner table. She noticed that her family paused upon seeing the Doctor, which didn't surprise her at all. Again, her grandmother was the first to break the ice. She extended her hand, which the Doctor shook without obvious reluctance.

"Lovely to meet you, Mr Smith," she said with a smile, "And whatever those standing behind me are going to say or do, just let me tell you that the boyfriend Clara had two years ago showed up naked for Christmas dinner and later broke up with her on the same day. You're already dressed and if you manage not to break my Clara's heart, I have every intention to like you."

" _Grandma!_ "

The Doctor grinned at the older woman. "It's lovely to meet you, too. And Clara has mentioned this story so often I almost feel like I was there. But please, call me John."

"Why is he dressed like a homeless person?" Dave Oswald whispered into his daughter's ear.

Clara shot her father a dirty look. "Because we had planned a quiet Christmas for just the two of us before this family invasion happened," she snapped back at him.

"And you must be Mr Oswald. Clara has told me everything about you and your lovely wife," the Doctor said, smiling at both of them and completely ignoring Clara's confused looks.

She had expected the Doctor to be rude or unfriendly, fearing that Christmas dinner would be a complete disaster, but he was actually playing along and he proved to be a much better fake boyfriend than the previous him. The Doctor had been anything but keen on meeting her family again, but now he was behaving like a proper gentleman, scolding Clara for being rude because she had neglected to offer her family to sit down, even holding the chair for her grandmother and when everyone was seated, he announced that he was going to fetch the turkey from the kitchen.

"I'll help you," Clara added and followed him into the small room where the Doctor immediately started to retrieve the food from the oven.

"Doctor, what is going on?" she asked in a hushed voice.

He threw her a quick glance before reaching for the oven mittens. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know exactly what I am talking about. You're being. . . not you. You're nice to my family!"

A few seconds later the turkey was sitting on the kitchen counter, smelling heavenly and the Doctor finally turned his attention back to Clara.

"I thought that's what you wanted."

"Yes," she replied, "But I didn't think you'd actually listen."

The Doctor groaned in response. "Can we go back into the living room now? Your family is waiting for us."

Clara watched the Doctor suspiciously while they were having dinner with her family. He was being the perfect (fake) boyfriend and even her dad was starting to warm up to him. It was proof that the Doctor wasn't as oblivious to human behaviour and manners as he always pretended to be. He could be nice if he wanted to. But why had he chosen this Christmas dinner to prove that?

"I hope you don't mind me asking," her grandmother suddenly said, "But how did the two of you get together? It seems a rather. . . unlikely match."

"Granny, I told you we met when he was working as caretaker at my school."

"That's not what I mean. How did your relationship start?"

Clara opened her mouth to speak, but the Doctor interrupted her. "I asked Clara to run away with me. I wasn't working at Coal Hill anymore when Danny died and I had decided to leave them alone, let them be happy. It wasn't until last Christmas that I finally heard of Danny's death and I decided it was now or never, so I asked her to run away with me."

"You could have said something," her grandmother suddenly said, sounding a little hurt, "You were gone when I woke up. No trace of Clara but a little note that you'd gone home."

"You've been together for _a year_?" Dave asked.

Clara looked at him apologetically. "Technically."

She was already bracing herself for a lecture when the Doctor spoke again. "I was travelling. . . on business. . . for the bigger part of the year. Only came back to England recently."

"Now, let's not torture the two of them any longer. I have a present in my bag that I want to get rid of," her grandmother said, breaking the tension that Clara felt was beginning to build up.

"Marvellous idea," she agreed.

Clara had gotten her dad and Linda a gift certificate for a spa weekend that was greatly appreciated by both of them. Her present for her grandmother was an antique fairy tale book that she knew her granny had read and loved as a child and that she had finally spotted – in no other location than an alien bazaar. In return Clara received a collective present from the three of them – a digital camera that she immediately used to snap a few shots of their Christmas dinner.

"I see embarrassing pictures in my future," the Doctor muttered under his breath.

Clara giggled. "Okay, shall we clean this up and see what's on TV?"

The Doctor cleared his throat next to her and Clara turned around, realising that suddenly the insecurity from earlier had returned as he fumbled through his pockets.

"I, erm, I have something for you," he admitted, avoiding her gaze.

She was a little taken aback. "But. . . since when do we do presents?"

Finally the Doctor pulled something from his pocket and Clara realized it was a small, golden, Roman looking bracelet with fine engravings shaped like leaves all around it. It was clean and shiny and looked new, but the style seemed ancient and Clara assumed that the bracelet actually was an original piece of Roman jewellery. Gently the Doctor reached for Clara's hand and slid it around her wrist. For a moment she was lost for words.

"I, erm, I picked it up when I went to Rome a while ago. There's a story behind it, but I think I'll save that for later."

Before the Doctor could say any more Clara got up on her toes and pressed a swift kiss to his cheek before wrapping her arms around his neck. Reluctantly he placed his hands on her waist.

 **OOO**

When Clara settled in her pillows the Doctor was nervously walking around her bedroom, obviously unsure of what to do next. With a smile on her face, she turned the bracelet around her wrist.

"It's a lovely present," Clara said after a moment, looking at the Doctor who was still standing by the door as if he was still keeping his option of flight open, "Come on, sit down. I won't bite."

"You know I don't need much sleep."

"Yes, but if you keep standing there it's gonna make me nervous and then I can't sleep either. So sit."

Slowly the Doctor began approaching the bed and eventually settled down next to her, his head carefully sinking into the pillow, arms crossed over his chest.

"So, what's the story behind the gift?" she asked curiously.

The Doctor shifted in bed, turning around to look at her. He had been so at ease with her family earlier that Clara was surprised he now looked as uncomfortable as he had before dinner.

"Remember last week when I arrived at your school a bit early and you told me to come back an hour later?"

"I remember you came back 8 hours later, yes," Clara replied.

"Well, I helped this Roman jewellery maker free his fiancé from alien captivity. It was no big deal, but he insisted on giving me this bracelet. Told me to give it to someone," the Doctor explained.

"Someone?" she raised an eyebrow, "He said ' _Give this to someone_ '?"

The Doctor took a deep breath. "Someone special. That's what he said."

A smile spread on Clara's face. As rude and cold as he sometimes appeared, at his hearts the Doctor truly cared about her and she loved those moments that his true feelings shone through.

"You know what is amazing somehow?" Clara ask, a smirk on her face.

"No?" he asked carefully.

"My family totally bought that we're boyfriend and girlfriend and we haven't even kissed once in front of them."

"Well," he said, clearing his throat, "I wasn't sure if you'd want this charade taken that far."

Before she could think twice about it, Clara leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. For a moment he didn't react at all and Clara was already wondering if she had made a big mistake. After all, the Doctor didn't even like hugging. But after the shock of the first impact had subsided, she felt the Doctor slowly yield to her kiss, his lips parting just enough to let her know it was okay. In less than a minute the gentle kiss had turned into a full blown snogging and the Doctor's hands had somehow found its way into her hair, pulling her only deeper into the kiss.

Then suddenly the door burst open and they both jumped apart as a reflex.

"Clara, do you have a spare charger for. . .," her father voice stopped abruptly, before he added, "Nevermind. Still time for that tomorrow."

The bedroom door closed again.

"Well," Clara shrugged, "On the bright side. If there had been any doubt that we're actually a couple, that doubt is gone now."


	4. The New Teacher

_Another Tumblr prompt, m-rated this time. And thank you all so much for your comments on the last ones :)_

 **Hey we hooked up last night and it turns out you are my child's teacher**

" _Fuck_ ," she breathed as he thrust inside of her, one of her hands clawing at his back, her nails digging painfully into his skin, the other buried in his hair, which was even less gentle as she dragged him down until their lips met again.

He tried his best to hold her up against the bathroom wall and was thankful that her legs were wrapped around his waist, helping with the weight, as his knees were so wobbly he could hardly feel them anymore. All he could feel was her tight, wet, hot cunt wrapped around his cock, the pleasure of it almost unbearable as he plunged inside her at a frantic rhythm while moaning into her mouth.

She was his first date in four years, the first woman he had found on this online dating website who had been willing to meet with him. They had exchanged a few glances over their drink and now they were already fucking in the bar's public toilet. But God, he needed this. She was younger, they hadn't even exchanged their full names but he didn't care. From the moment he had seen her with her big, brown eyes and her red lips and her pretty dress, all he could think about was taking her up against the wall.

She keened and whimpered under him, her eyes shut now and her lipstick smeared all over her flushed cheeks. She was beautiful and he wanted nothing more than to make her fall apart for him. He closed his eyes and let out a throaty groan as she clenched around him and he buried himself deeper, needily and hungrily and he didn't care that her moans could be heard outside of this room, not as she begged him to go even _harder_ , even _faster_ and he was more than willing to oblige. He lifted her up with one hand and she practically sank back down him, so wet it almost drove him right over the edge. Her breath was hot against his ear, ragged and panting like his own.

"Harder," she urged him, her voice weak and so high pitched that he could tell she was close.

He pressed the weight of his own body against hers, doing what she had asked of him, thrusting inside her, digging deeper than he had gone before and her head hit against the cold bathroom tiles, a cry dying out in her throat as she tightened around him in her climax and he stilled his movements as his own orgasm hit him. He groaned as he spilled himself in the latex, his breath shallow and his head sinking into her shoulder.

He watched her as she straightened her hair out, a pointless endeavour, and he buttoned his trousers back up. He didn't dare ask to see her again, no matter how much he would have enjoyed doing this again – maybe in a bed instead of a dirty bar toilet. She didn't ask for his name or his number and he was sure he would never see her again in his life.

Nevertheless he felt oddly free the following day when he walked his son to school for the first time after the summer holidays. Last night's date, however short and unusual it had been, had boosted his confidence, something he had really needed after being a widower for so long. However, the smile he was wearing on his face froze as soon as he stepped into the classroom and saw her – undoubtedly her – and a blush replaced his smirk. She was even prettier in daylight and he swallowed hard. Then she turned around and saw him as well. Her mouth fell open.

"Oh," he heard her mutter and she quickly busied herself with some papers on her desk.

He stepped forward and extended his hand like a polite man would do.

"Good morning. I'm John Smith, Timmy's father," he said, trying to sound as matter-of-factly as possible, "You must be the new teacher."

The woman cleared her throat before she reluctantly shook his hand.

"Nice to, erm, know your name," she replied with a nervous giggle, "Clara Oswald, and yes, I'm your son's teacher."

Again she cleared her throat. A small flicker in her eye, buried beneath the nervous shifting, told him that she wasn't unhappy to seen him.

"So, erm, you bring you son to school often?" she asked, switching between looking at him and avoiding his gaze.

"I think I might do that more often now," he said with a smile.

"Good," she muttered, "That's . . . good."

"Daaaaad, you can let go off my hand now. It's embarrassing!" his son suddenly protested and he realized that he might have squeezed the little hand a bit too tightly in his nervousness.

She, however, laughed at his child's comment and bent down to be at eye level with him.

"Timmy, right? Why don't you sit down at your desk, huh?"

Timmy happily obliged and trotted off to his seat.

"I guess I'll be seeing you around, Miss Oswald?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh, absolutely," she replied before lowering her voice, "And just so you know. The school toilets are pretty much sound proof."


	5. Special Ingredient

_Thank you all so much for your reviews on the latest prompts :) Here is a new one for you:_

 **From a Tumblr prompt: Apparently the brownies I ate were a bit… special.**

Clara placed the brownie plate on her kitchen table and eyed it for a moment. It was a good idea, she told herself, they shouldn't go to waste. She left the kitchen, searched her wardrobe for something nice to wear to the party tonight and went to take a long, hot shower. The dress she had chosen was casual, but still elegant and Clara brushed her hair neatly and applied a small layer of make up and eyeliner to her face.

However when she stepped back into the kitchen she found a surprise.

"Doctor!" she exclaimed, "What are you doing here tonight?"

"Oh, I just stopped by to see if you were free cause I was bored and kind of missed you. I see you've had a wash – that was very thoughtful of you. Even though I prefer the other smell that you use, you know, the coconut one."

Clara raised an eyebrow at him. Why was he being so nice and. . . honest?

"I'm actually going to a-," she stopped mid-sentence when she noticed the empty plate in front of him.

"Doctor," she asked warily, "Where are the brownies?"

"Oh, I ate them. I hope you don't mind," the Doctor replied casually.

"All of them?!" she blurted out, horrified.

"Well, I didn't mean to. I started with one. . . or two. But then I got hungry and you really took long to get out of the shower. In fact, I'm still hungry. Do you have anything else at home?"

"Oh dear," Clara muttered, not knowing what to say. She wasn't even sure if she should tell him, but she concluded that she should before he got into his TARDIS and himself into trouble.

"Is something wrong, Clara? Your eyes are doing the very pretty but slightly worrying thing."

He made a gesture that Clara understood as imitation of her horrified look. And had he just called her eyes pretty?

"Doctor, those brownies weren't regular brownies," she began carefully.

He raised his eyebrows at her.

"You know how humans sometimes like to use. . . herbs to, erm, for recreational purposes?" Clara's voice went up a little too much at the end of the sentence and she waited for the Doctor to nod, "You can smoke them, or. . . put them in brownies?"

"Clara, are you telling me I just consumed some human drugs?"

She nodded. And to her surprise he burst into laughter.

"What's so funny now? I am late to a party and I don't have time to take care of a stoned Time Lord," Clara complained angrily.

"Clara," he said, followed by a tsk tsk sound, "I am a 2000 year old, superior, alien being. I am not effected by some silly hash brownies."

Clara eyed him suspiciously, not believing a single word of that last sentence. He was definitely not acting like his normal self and she would not let him out of her sight until the effects had worn off.

"Should I ask why you keep hash brownies in your kitchen?" he asked with a smirk.

She sighed. "I confiscated them from my students today. And I thought I'd bring them to the party tonight so they don't go to waste. But that party seems to be cancelled now."

"Nooo, don't say that," the Doctor got up from his chair, "We could go together. Wouldn't that be fun? I've never met your friends except for P.E. and I didn't like him."

Clara snorted. "I am definitely not taking you to the party tonight, not while you're high as a kite."

"I told you, your human drugs don't effect Time Lords. But if you don't want to go to the party, at least let's go and get something to eat. I'm starving and I know a nice, little restaurant on Zyperton 6," the Doctor suggested enthusiastically and was about to rush to his TARDIS when Clara grabbed his arm.

"You are not flying the TARDIS like this. In your state we'll end up inside a supernova."

"But supernovas are fun," he replied, bending down to look at her and Clara immediately took a step back, slightly frightened by how close he got all of a sudden.

"Okay, suggestion: How does pizza sound? We can order any kind you want."

His eyes lit up. "I want every kind."

"Good," Clara replied, "Good. Why don't you go into the living room and make yourself comfortable while I order? Just stay away from the TARDIS "

"Yes," he said with a broad grin, "Boss."

Clara sighed as soon as she was alone in the kitchen. She had been looking forward to a completely ordinary night out with friends, some normal human fun, and now she was stuck with a stoked Time Lord. The drugs might not have the same effect as they would on a human being, but they _definitely_ had _some_ effect.

She picked up the phone and was about to dial the number of her favourite pizza delivery service when suddenly an incredibly loud noise came from the next room, forcing Clara to cover her ears.

"Doctor," she shouted as she walked into the living room, "What the hell is going on?"

Apparently the Doctor didn't hear her. He was standing on the sofa, the amp positioned on her coffee table and he was playing his electric guitar very, very loudly. She didn't even bother trying to recognize the song before she unplugged the cable from the amplifier.

"Clara," he looked at her with sad, disappointed eyes, pouting, "What did you do that for? I was about to play you a song."

"You can play me a song – quietly," she told him, "I'm not alone in this building. I have neighbours."

The Doctor's pout turned even sadder.

"No, don't even try that," Clara warned him, "I like your music, you know that, but the volume is unacceptable."

At this moment the doorbell rang and Clara groaned, knowing it could one be one of her neighbours. She went to open it to the old lady who lived across the hall.

"Good evening, Mrs Hutchens," Clara said sweetly, "I am terribly sorry about the noise earlier. I promise I'll keep it down."

The old woman scolded her with her glance. "Thank you, that's what I had come to talk to you about. I almost fell out of my bed."

"I'm sorry, Mrs Hutchens. I have a friend over and he is _profoundly deaf_. He didn't _realize_ it was that loud. I'm _very_ sorry, it won't happen again," Clara lied.

The old woman nodded understandingly and luckily gave her trying to lecture her. When Clara stepped back into the living room, she found the Doctor sitting on her couch, head propped up in his hands, sulking.

"Doctor?" she asked carefully.

"Go away, Clara," he mumbled into his palms and suddenly Clara felt a pang of pity for him. He was already very enthusiastic and the brownies seemed to have made that slightly worse and it wasn't even his fault, he hadn't known what was in them. The least she could do was to be nice to him (and maybe take some pictures of the embarrassing things he was probably going to do later) until it passed.

"Doctor," Clara said with a sigh as she sank into the sofa cushions next to him, placing an arm around his shoulder, "Don't be like that."

He turned around to look at her through his sad, grey eyes. "Are you ashamed of me?" he asked out of the blue.

Clara laughed nervously. "Why would I be ashamed of you? You're my friend, remember?"

"You keep saying that, but ever since I've changed you've kept me pretty much separated from your _human life_ ," he spat the last part as if it was something disgusting, "You got mad at me when I was posing as the school caretaker. You don't introduce me to your friends. The last time I saw your family was at Christmas dinner when I still had my old face. Admit it, you don't want to be seen with me. You don't want to be seen with _the old dude_."

"That's not true," Clara replied immediately.

"Isn't it?" he raised an eyebrow at her, "I'm trying so hard to be cool for you, but I'll never be as cool as _Bowtie_ , will I?"

She burst into laughter. "You're trying to be cool? For me? The outfit, the guitar playing, the sonic specs, that's for _me_?"

The Doctor turned his face away from her and Clara realized that she had indeed been trying to keep her out of her normal life, but for entirely different reasons.

"You've changed faces, yes. It doesn't matter what you look like now or what you've looked like before, I don't care about that. It's just that it's hard to explain to my family why my friend the Doctor suddenly turned grey and Scottish without telling them that you abduct me on a weekly basis in your Time Machine."

His only reply was a sad sigh.

Clara rolled her eyes. She was going to regret this bitterly. "Doctor, do you want to come to the party with me?"

When he turned back to face her a huge grin was spread across the Doctor's face. "I thought you'd never ask!"

It took almost ten minutes to talk the Doctor out of taking the TARDIS but eventually Clara convinced him to walk the short distance and a while later they arrived at the party. His spirits had lifted by the time they arrived, or they had gotten ever better than before and Clara assumed that the special ingredient of the brownies was starting to really kick in now. She prayed that he wouldn't do something too embarrassing while at the same time keeping her camera phone very close. If the Doctor misbehaved she vowed to tease him about it mercilessly until the end of time. She also vowed to not let him out of her sight.

Which was what proved to be the most difficult task. The Doctor was bursting with energy. One moment he was standing next to Clara, the next he was talking to someone she didn't know or rearranging the book shelf, from which she quickly dragged him away, yet not without protest from his side.

"Clara, you need to loosen up a bit," he said happily, spreading his arms wide, "We're at a party!"

"Yes," she hissed in reply, "I know that and we're here under the condition that you behave. Can you do that?"

"Of course I can, Clara," then he winked at her, "But that doesn't mean I'm going to. I'm not called the Rebel Time Lord for nothing."

"You call yourself that!"

"Yes, or do you prefer Doctor Disco?"

"I'd prefer it if you stayed out of trouble," Clara replied.

It wasn't long until she lost track of him again while Clara was talking to a friend in the kitchen. She turned around and the Doctor was gone. For a moment she was beginning to worry until the heard a very loud and very familiar sound coming from another room.

"Is that an electric guitar?" her friend asked, "That's a bit weird. I didn't notice that someone brought one."

Clara forced a smile before she turned around and followed the noise.

 _When I played my guitar I made the canyons rock, but every Saturday night I felt the fever grow. Do you know what it's like – all revved up with no place to go?_

The Doctor was easily found. In fact, it would have been hard not to see him rocking his guitar on the dining room table. How the hell had he smuggled it past her? For a moment she was mad at him, but then she noticed that everyone else seemed to love his show. And he sang _really_ well, obviously enjoying the cheering people gathering around the table to watch him.

Clara positioned herself somewhere near the door, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, trying to look stern. When she spotted her, he granted her a big smile.

 _I was nothing but a lonely boy looking out for something new. And you were nothing but a lonely girl but you were something, something like a dream come true._

 _Stop flirting_ , she thought to herself. It wasn't going to work on her.

 _In the middle of a steamy night I'm tossing in my sleep. And in the middle of a red-eyed dream I see you coming, coming on to give it to me._

Clara bit down on her lip. This was definitely not working. She was so going to scold him for bringing the guitar. The Doctor winked at her.

 _Oh baby, I'm a hunter in the dark of the forest, I've been stalking you and tracking you down. We could be standing at the top of the world instead of sinking further down in the mud._

He ended the song by sliding down on his knees and giving a whole-hearted, passionate solo and everyone in the room was clapping and cheering and asking for another song but the Doctor slowly tumbled down the table, swung the guitar around his back and made his way across the room towards her. Clara raised his eyebrows at him.

"Did you like it?" he asked enthusiastically.

"How did you manage to bring the guitar here?" she asked him, trying to sound mad, but obviously failing.

The Doctor only shrugged. "Time Lord pockets. Bigger on the inside. I'm hungry now. Can we get food?"

Clara laughed. "Yes, we can get food. Do you wanna eat here or shall we go back to my place and order some pizza?"

"Your place sounds good. Pizza sounds even better. Oh, and I learned something new today, overheard some of the people talking," he said as they made their way through the corridor and Clara opened the door to the outside.

"What did you learn?" she asked curiously, stepping out into the fresh night air.

"Apparently, it's something that's supposed to be fun and I want to try it," he said happily.

"Okay, what is it?"

"Netflix and chill. We can do that, can't we, Clara?"

Clara's eyes widened and shortly after she broke out into laughter. "Doctor, do you even know what that means?"

"No, but it sounds fun. Wanna try it? Apparently, it's what friends do nowadays."

"Doctor," she said, still laughing, "It's most certainly not what _friends_ do. It's just a nice way of saying that they're going to meet to have sex."

"Oh," he muttered and suddenly seemed to find his own feet very fascinating as he kept staring at them while he walked.

"Don't worry," Clara tried to cheer up him as she took him by the arm, "At least you didn't find out the hard way like I did. I was invited for Netflix and chill by Danny back then. I had no clue. And I really was not prepared."

"Why would that require preparation?"

"Well, shaving, picking nice lingerie, stuff like that," Clara said and the Doctor suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, staring at her as if he was seeing her in a completely different light right now.

"Stop gawking, Doctor," she raised her eyebrows, "And stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're picturing me in lingerie right now."

"I'm sorry," the Doctor replied immediately and resumed walking. He remained quiet for a while and Clara was starting to wonder what was going on in his mind.

"I think the brownies did have some effect," he admitted after a while.

Clara giggled. "I'm glad you noticed. But it's not that bad, not for the amount you ate. Any human would probably a drooling, hallucinating mess right now."

"Probably," he repeated, "But I don't quite feel myself. There are some really weird thoughts in my head, and they're really loud."

"Like what?" Clara asked curiously and the Doctor stopped again, looking at her.

"Like your lips."

"My lips?"

"Yes, they look really soft," he explained.

"Soft?" Clara frowned at him.

"Yes, like, if I were to put my lips on yours, I think it would feel very soft."

She giggled nervously. "Okay, Doctor, you're really stoned. That makes no sense at a-"

Her words were cut off when the Doctor suddenly stepped forward and pressed his mouth on hers. Clara let out a tiny squeal in her surprise but soon relaxed and closed her eyes, even allowing him inside her mouth. He was a clumsy and sloppy kisser, but Clara blamed it on his befuddled state.

After a moment he pulled away and quickly tumbled backwards as if the reality of what he had done just hit him.

"Sorry," the Doctor mumbled quickly.

"No, don't apologize," Clara said, giving him a smile, "It was nice. Different, but nice."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "So there's still hope for Netflix and chill?"

Clara laughed and gently tousled his hair to take revenge for that last comment. "Maybe some other time," she said playfully, "Now let's go back to my place and order that pizza."

"Ah, yes, pizza. I'd forgotten I was hungry."

"Good, let's go then," Clara decided and took him by the hand before they started to walk back to her apartment.


	6. Flash

**Flash**

"I came here to get the pictures done and then fuck. Not the other way around." "Well," he shrugged, "Your hair and make up are ruined now." _From A Tumblr prompt: The Doctor is a photographer and Clara his model for a photoshoot. Clara needs help tying her corset and the Doctor isn't much of a help._

God knows he hadn't planned on this. He really hadn't planned on this at all. This should have been an ordinary job and above all one the Doctor hadn't even been keen on doing in the first place. But his assistant had called in sick this morning and this fairy shooting for an advert had been planned in advance so instead of postponing it the Doctor had found himself in the studio, utterly sleep deprived and annoyed until _she_ had shown up.

The model was _fucking gorgeous_. Damn, he had never seen eyes like those in his entire career as a photographer and he had taken pictures of countless models who had all been beautiful but no one had been like her. She had arrived, burst into his studio like a whirlwind with her hair and make up already in place, a clothing bag slung over her shoulder and a name on her lips. The Doctor had heard _Clara_ and blanked out the rest. He couldn't even fucking breathe with her in the same room, much less think straight.

Luckily she had quickly excused herself into the changing room and the Doctor found himself alone in his studio once more, desperate for some fresh air, desperate for the blood to find its way back to his brain. He couldn't possibly. She was a model. She was a job.

"Could you lend me a hand here?" the Doctor heard her call from the changing room, "I need help tying this thing."

He was reluctant. To be alone inside the tiny changing room seemed like a pretty big risk to take. He had a job to do after all and he couldn't do it while body parts that were not his brain were doing far too much thinking for his taste.

"Hellooo?!" Clara called again, sounding a little annoyed.

Finally the Doctor stepped up to the door and opened it, finding his model in a very, _very_ short green dress. Her legs were as pretty as the rest of her, pale and damn smooth looking. She was a bit short, too short for a model but that was probably why they had chosen her to be the absinthe fairy for this shooting. Fairies were tiny. Like her. She probably weighed nothing at all and it would be so easy to pin up her against the wall.

 _Blood. Brain. **Now**._

"Can you help me tie this thing?" Clara asked, looking over her shoulder and helplessly holding the ends of the lacing on her corset in her hands.

 _Oh, he'd help her. He'd help her alright._

After the Doctor had finished looking at her, and he had looked at her very thoroughly, he came to a halt behind her and took the lacing out of her hands.

"That is a lovely dress," he said in a low voice, bending down just a little into shoulder. She smelled of Chanel. He wanted to sink his lips to her skin and kiss every inch of her tiny body.

"Thank you," Clara replied and immediately cleared her throat. Her voice sounded a little husky. Was she aroused by this? Could he dare to go further?

He let go of the lacing and placed his hands on her hips. No protest.

"Tell me, Clara. It was Clara, wasn't it?"

"Mh-mh," she nodded. The Doctor noticed how her breathing just got a little bit faster. His cock twitched inside his pants at the mere thought of this fairy wanting him. Oh, how he wanted to take her right then there.

"Tell me, isn't this corset a little. . . restricting?" he asked and slid his hands to stomach, pulling her against his crotch. A risky move, he admitted that. She could just as well run away screaming. But she didn't. Instead he felt her arse grinding deliciously slow against him.

"You don't remember me, do you?" Clara's voice sounded a tiny bit amused.

Remember her? He didn't think he could because the Doctor was sure he had never met her before.

"The Halloween shooting last year," she hummed, pressing herself against him. It was getting more difficult to actually hear what she said with every passing second as his arousal grew. Every cell in his body was aching to fuck her. There was no space in his head for any other thought. "I was the one in the scarecrow mask."

He remembered now. But he couldn't have known it was her. Not in that costume.

"How should I have recognized you?" the Doctor asked, his voice strained now in his wound up state. He took a sharp breath, almost moaning as she suddenly struggled free and turned around in his embrace. Not touching her seemed almost painful.

"I took this job cause I knew you'd take the pictures," Clara said sweetly, "Couldn't pass up this chance."

Suddenly she leaned forward and licked across his throat before her lips settled there, gently sucking his skin while her hands reached for his belt.

 _Lower_ , he thought, his erection now pressing hard against his confining underwear. It must be worse than her corset. Carefully Clara slid a hand inside, grabbing him tight. He hissed at the contact of skin and had to resist the urge to rock into her palm when she started stroking him but, _fuck_ , he was desperate for it.

"All I could think about during the shoot was you," she admitted nonchalantly, "I imagined you tearing my clothes off. I imagined you fucking me against the studio wall. I was so desperate for you to be inside me."

The Doctor whimpered as she ran her thumb across the sensitive tip. God, he wanted her so much and her talking like that only made it worse. If only she would stop.

"How the tables have turned," she giggled and removed her hand without a warning.

Before Clara had the chance to speak again he crashed their mouths together, not minding her make up or her lipstick. Her back hit the wall behind her and the Doctor pressed her against it with the weight of his body, kissing her fiercely, biting her lip, anything to shut her up. She had teased him enough and now it was time for his revenge. The Doctor would show her.

His hand wandered over her thigh, being deliberately slow and he found that she wasn't wearing any underwear. The fiend had planned this from the beginning. He bit down on her lip just hard enough to make her wince as he traced her clit with his thumb. His touch was barely there but it was enough for her to feel it, enough for her to press herself against him and certainly enough to make her want more.

"You think you're in control?" he laughed as their lips parted. He could feel the wetness between her folds but he wouldn't give in to it so easily now that he had figured out her.

"Yes," she breathed. Carefully, too careful, he inserted a finger inside her. She was dripping wet already, so slippery the Doctor was sure she didn't feel this at all as he teased her. As much as he would like to say that he had the upper hand in this he knew that it wasn't so. She was so wet, so inviting, so tight around his finger that he couldn't help but think about how she would feel around him. He felt a painful surge run through his lower belly into his cock. Fuck this game, he needed to be inside her.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Stop fooling around and fuck me already!"

The Doctor lifted her up against the wall and her legs wrapped around him immediately, her arms anchoring around his neck for support. She kissed him bruisingly as one of his hands fiddled with his trousers until he had pushed them so far down that his erection sprang free. Grabbing it with one hand he guided himself to her entrance and plunged into her.

"Fuck," he groaned as he was surrounded by her tight cunt. God, she felt better than he had anticipated. Oh, how he wanted her, wanted this. Pure craving and need, shameless fucking with a goddamn fairy.

Clara kissed him again as she started moving inside her, driving in and out of her wet heat with a zeal that had her moan beneath him. Her hands tried holding tight to his neck but lost their grip and she ended up pulling at his hair but the Doctor didn't mind. Not at all. When he moved his lips down along her throat her head fell back against the wall.

"God, yes," she keened breathlessly, "Like this. _Mhhhh_."

He increased his pace, his initial ache to be inside her growing, transforming into the simple, carnal need to come. That was all this was. Simple. Raw. Almost animalistic. He thrust harder into her, feeling the thrill at the buildup of his impending orgasm in his throbbing member.

Clara was panting beneath him, her breaths mingling with whimpering as he made her come. Her walls clenched and tightened around him when she attempted to make a sound, yet the cry got stuck in her throat. The Doctor buried himself inside her once again, the feeling of her around him all of a sudden so overwhelming that he couldn't hold back. He cried out, muttering curse words as he felt his orgasm pulse through him, washing out in a wave of release as he poured himself inside of her and finally came to a halt.

She laughed, her breath still as ragged as his own as he pulled out of her and gently set her down on the floor.

"Damn, that was amazing," Clara said happily as she pulled her fairy dress back down, "I came here to get the pictures done and then fuck. Not the other way around."

The Doctor looked at her, trying to catch his breath and the clear thoughts only slowly returned to his mind now.

"Well," he shrugged, "Your hair and make up are ruined now."

Clara turned around to the mirror and looked at herself for a moment before apparently coming to the same conclusion.

"We can reschedule, can't we?"

The Doctor nodded.

"Good. Then we'll do the pictures first and the sex after."

He was still too worked up to reply but that sounded like a damn good plan to him.


	7. Hiding

_I've wanted to experiment with a different writing style for a while and this has come together from drafts of single sentences that I decided to put together._

 **Hiding**

" _We have to hide!"_

That's how it starts and to this day the Doctor wonders why. They run like they always do and this time Clara is ahead of him; he can already hear their pursuers' footsteps. A hand grabs him, drags him into a kind of larder. This place is a perfect replica of a medieval castle, the only thing not medieval about it is that it's floating around in space on an asteroid. Other than that it's perfect, along with a perfectly cold larder as he soon realises. Clara is shivering next to him but there are still voices outside, looking for the intruders that have accidentally stumbled into the King's chamber. At first she steps closer to him for warmth. The Doctor's skin is cooler than her own but still not as cool as the room temperature. He isn't sure about what happens next. Her hand slipping beneath his shirt, a new feeling but not a bad one. It's curious how she can make his skin tingle like that. Her face nuzzled against his neck, her lips brushed against his throat. He's so scared he can't even move.

OOO

The Doctor brushes the thought about this incident aside. He doesn't understand it. He tells himself it's a human thing. They run further than they have ever been, they run faster than they ever have. The Doctor and Clara Oswald in the TARDIS. Same old, same old. Until they're locked up. As far as prison cells go, this is a nice one. Clean. White. No window or furniture. He assumes that Clara is bored cause there is no other reason her hand should be on his chest and slipping down. The Doctor opens his mouth to protest as she palms him through his trousers but no sound comes out and eventually he forgets why he wants to protest at all. His brain has never felt so empty. In the end Clara leaves him hard and aching, leaves a stain on his trousers, leaves his mind befuddled when the guards interrupt them, telling them they're free to go.

OOO

It's curiosity, the Doctor decides. Clara is curious and maybe a little bit lonely. It is natural but it is not what they should be doing and he vows to himself that he will put a stop to it. But it's Clara and she's the boss of him and he can't ever say no to her. Doesn't know how to. Doesn't know why he even should as he dives into her for the first time and it feels like heaven and hell at the same time. They're in the cockpit of an unmanned spacecraft that they have stopped crashing into the ISS and he thinks this may be an act of relief, an act of joy and victory but he isn't sure it even matters. He is a Time Lord, he should be above sex. The Doctor can only imagine how Missy would taunt him if she knew. Luckily for him she doesn't. And by all the Gods in the universe, her walls tightening around him, how his body goes into autopilot once he's beyond the point of no return, the moment he comes inside of her, it feels even better than running.

OOO

It's not always about her. Not always about satisfying her own needs even though it mostly is. Clara is human and they need sleep and food and, well, sex. It's pre-programmed. It's in her nature. But sometimes she doesn't lower her knickers, she keeps the skirt where it is, her trousers buttoned. She just shoves her hand past his waistband, giving him a quick wank-off while they're separated from the rest of the expedition. Or she sinks on her knees in the Queen's bedroom in Buckingham Palace. She sucks him so hard he wants to scream but he can't, not with Her Majesty waiting outside until they're done checking the room for aliens. She can make him utterly fall apart and there is always this smile on Clara's face when she swallows, like she knows how much in control she is of him.

OOO

They never do it in the TARDIS, or her flat. It's like they're different people out there while they're running, like it doesn't even count, like it never really happens at all. The closest thing they ever to it do home is the UNIT Christmas party. The Doctor and Clara, alone in a storage room under the Tower of London amongst brooms and cleaning fluids. She's wearing red and it drives him insane when she dances and he ends up fucking her so hard she actually screams out his name when she comes. The Doctor is sure that Kate knows, that she can tell by their bruises and dishevelled looks but Clara doesn't seem bothered. He wants to ask her, wants to ask why they're doing this, but he's afraid. He's afraid she will stop. And he's starting to enjoy it.

OOO

Eventually the Doctor just adds it to the list of things they do. Like the running, like the travelling in a blue police box. Eventually it becomes almost normal, like anything they do together can be considered normal. It's something they do and don't talk about. They just do it. It's something they're hiding. Not just from others but from themselves as well.


	8. Valentine's Day

It was the 14th of February on Earth and Clara Oswald had absolutely nothing planned. Had Danny still been alive it would have been their first Valentine's Day together but as it was, she was on her own again. She had never actually celebrated Valentine's Day if she was completely honest, she had just had the bad luck of always being single when that time of year came around.

However once she had settled on her sofa Clara heard the familiar roaring of the landing TARDIS and she rolled her eyes at the materializing blue box. For once she wasn't really in the mood for adventures.

"What are you sitting there for?" the Doctor almost shouted when he came barging out of the TARDIS, "And why aren't you dressed yet?"

"Doctor," Clara struggled into a sitting position, "Why are you here? I didn't realize we had plans for today."

"Of course we have plans," he argued.

Clara raised her eyebrows, wondering when they had made those or if the Doctor was just as confused as always.

"Actually, I have something different planned for today," he said, "We will not leave Earth. Or this day. The year, maybe, or the continent. Now come on, put on some trousers that are not meant for sleeping in."

Grumpily Clara yielded to him. She had no idea where the Doctor would take her so she picked a practical outfit, tied her hair up in a bun and slowly emerged from her bedroom, ready to voice her protest once more when the Doctor already ushered her inside the TARDIS.

It was hot when they stepped outside, well, maybe not hot but certainly warmer than February in London. For a brief moment Clara wanted to ask him if he was sure it was the same date but he had already taken her hand and pulled her in the direction of a motorcycle shop.

"I thought we could start with a motorcycle tour though Florida. You like motorbikes, right?"

The Doctor looked at her expectantly and for the first time today a smile spread on Clara's face. She nodded. "I do. I like them. Didn't think you would."

The Doctor shrugged, giving her a slightly strange look that Clara decided meant he was pleased with himself as he showed the man coming out of the shop his psychic paper. Right after that he hopped on one of the bikes and waved in her direction. Clara hesitated for a moment before she decided not to ask any more questions. She jumped on the back of the bike behind the Doctor and wrapped her arms tightly around him as he revved up the engine.

"No helmets?" she asked.

"Clara Oswald, I am the safest driver you will ever have the pleasure of meeting. After all, I've got almost two thousand years of experience. Who could compete with that?"

She couldn't help but smile as the Doctor drove off, leaving the TARDIS behind as they went. The wind blew her hair in all possible directions and Clara laughed heartily when the vehicle sped up, the velocity making her stomach tingle. She held on tight to the Doctor, feeling his heartbeats beneath her palms and just enjoyed how close they were for a moment.

After the motorcycle trip the Doctor hurried her back into the TARDIS and a short while later Clara emerged from its doors again only to realize they had landed in Paris.

"Paris?" she asked in disbelief, "Really? Today of all days? Doctor, this place will be swarming with couples out for a romantic date on Valentine's Day!"

The Doctor gave her a look, betraying that he obviously felt slightly at a loss. "Do you want to go somewhere else?"

"No," she replied with a sigh, "It's okay. Now that we're here, we should stay."

"Okay," he smiled at her and reached for her hand, "Shall we go up to the Eiffel Tower and see what the city looks like from up there?"

Clara smiled back at him, nodding in agreement.

Finally he took her back to the early 30s, promising her a lovely restaurant for which she would have to change into a nicer dress. What he hadn't mentioned was that the restaurant was also an old castle with a very romantic touch to it. Clara felt almost like nobility in her evening gown while the Doctor, now dressed like a true gentleman led her to their candlelit table.

"May I ask what the meaning of this day is?" Clara couldn't hold back any longer. She just had to know.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the Doctor replied, studying the wine menu intently.

"I am talking about the fact that we never had plans for today, at least none I can remember making."

"Of course you can't remember, not with your tiny human brain," he spat at her but then suddenly his posture changed completely, "I'm sorry, that wasn't nice of me. The size of your brain is perfectly normal and has nothing to do with why you can't remember making plans for today."

"Right. Cause we never did. So spill it, what's going on?" Clara demanded to know.

When the Doctor had looked confused or even insecure before he now looked downright miserable.

"Doctor!"

"Alright, alright. I wanted to surprise you. Do something nice. Did you not like it?"

Finally a smile spread over her lips again. She was loving it, if she was honest. If this was any other man than the Doctor Clara would have considered it the perfect Valentine's Day date of all times. But as it was the man sitting in front of her wasn't even really a man but an alien from a foreign planet with very different customs and Missy had made it plain to her that Time Lords didn't do something as primitive and pitiful as love. The Doctor probably didn't even know what day it was.

After a wonderful and delicious dinner the Doctor led her back to the TARDIS, setting course for her flat. However when she stepped back into her living room she found a huge bouquet of red roses sitting on her coffee table.

"Where did those come from?" Clara asked in amazement as she bent down to smell them. It was weird. They didn't really smell like roses but instead more like. . . strawberries? She looked but there was no card and no one but her and her family had a key to her place.

When she turned back towards the Doctor she realized that he was looking down a his feet and he seemed even more uncomfortable than before. No. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Not the Doctor.

"I, erm, I sneaked out while you changed for dinner. Do you like them?"

Clara was lost for words. If those flowers were really from him. If he really knew what day it was. If what they had done all day had been a date, a real, actual date, then that would mean. . . Suddenly Clara's heart was beating incredibly fast and she felt a lump in her throat.

"I thought you humans liked this sort of thing," he confessed, still avoiding her gaze, "You know, Valentine's Day. Dates. Flowers."

"I didn't realize this was a date," she admitted because she didn't really know what else to say.

"Clara, I showed up on Valentine's Day," the Doctor replied a little angrily, "I took you out to have fun, then to the city of love, to a candlelight dinner. I brought flowers. I didn't realize I also had to paint a sign to make myself clear."

"Oh, shut up, you," Clara said, smiling although he couldn't see it. Then she walked up to him, pushed herself up on tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. For a moment the Doctor froze under her touch but the longer the kiss lasted the more he relaxed and they just stood there, kissing each other until they ran out of breath.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it? And no painted sign needed," Clara said sweetly.

"Uhm, could you. . . maybe. . . do that again? I don't think I fully understood the concept."

Clara giggled at him. "Let me change back into my pjs, make us a cup of tea and then we can sit on the sofa and don't do anything else for hours. Deal?"

The Doctor beamed at her, a wide, heartfelt smile on his lips. "Deal."


	9. Rockstar

_From a Tumblr Prompt: I write for a small magazine and I'm interviewing you, a famous singer, for an article while pretending to work for another magazine but I can't look away from you. How am I supposed to write about you now? Rockstar!Doctor & Journalist!Clara _

**Rockstar**

Clara took a long, deep breath. It would be fine. Everything would be absolutely fine. She was only going to meet her idol, her favourite musician, her secret celebrity crush every since she was 16 and she was only going to lie to him. Yes, everything would be just fine. Clara rang the door bell and a few seconds later the intercom sprang to life.

"Are you Clara Oswald from the Rolling Stone magazine?" a husky voice said on the other end and she immediately recognized him. The Doctor. His voice alone was enough to make her tingle with excitement. In all the wrong places.

"Yep. That's me," Clara lied, sounding a lot more nervous than she would have thought. She wasn't working for the Rolling Stone, that was just what she had told his manager on the phone to get the interview. Truth be told, she was working for a small indie magazine called MusicMe and even she had to admit that it sounded stupid. A rockstar like the Doctor would never even consider giving an interview to a magazine with a silly name like _MusicMe_.

"Hang on, I'll open the- _ouch_ ," he cursed, hissing as if he was in pain and paused for a moment, "Sorry, I'll open the gate. You can come in."

When Clara turned towards the gate she heard a click and it sprang open, allowing her to step behind the walls that shielded his mansion from view. And what a mansion it was. Large, white, with a beautifully tended garden that Clara admired more with every step that led her though it. Once she had reached the front door she noticed that it was only left ajar and after a knock she carefully stepped inside into darkness.

"Hello?!" she called into the dark.

"Ugh, not so loud," the Doctor grumbled from a room to her left, "Come in and close the fucking door."

Her foot hit an object as she progressed into the direction of the voice and Clara noticed quite a few beer bottles on the floor along with other rubbish and discarded clothes. The air reeked of alcohol and smoke. There had definitely been a party going on last night.

Quietly she entered a living room and the little light coming in from between the blinds illuminated a disastrous mess and the Doctor was lying in the middle of it, sprawled out on the sofa, naked except for his underpants and a black holey jumper that he was using to cover his face. Clara swallowed hard when she let her gaze wander over his body. Damn, he looked even better than in her fantasies of him. Pale and lean and with just a trace of muscle. And then of course there was the very obvious bulge in his kind of tight underpants that sent the heat pooling between her thighs.

 _God, Clara, cut it out_ , she told herself, trying to regain control over her not so innocent thoughts.

"Sorry," the Doctor apologized, not moving from his lying position, "Bit of a hangover."

"If this is a bad time I could come back later," Clara suggested, not knowing what else to say.

"Nah, it's fine," the Doctor replied, reaching for the jumper and pulling it away from his face before he sat up almost straight and looked at her. The last part seemed to take him a moment and he blinked at her a couple of time while Clara granted him a shy smile, "Sorry, either hungover or still drunk. Can't decide. _You're_ the journalist?"

"Yep, that's me. Clara Oswald from the-"

"You're not from the Rolling Stone," he stated simply as if it was obvious, "They don't have journalists that pretty."

Clara was ready to frown at him.

"Young, I mean," he slapped his forehead, "I was going to say young. Sorry. Hangover."

She could do nothing but stand there, shuffling her feet nervously in front of the almost naked Doctor. He had figured her out and he would ask her to leave in just a few seconds so she better made her time with him count.

"Looks like there has been some party here last night," Clara commented.

"You can say that again," he replied and suddenly started patting the sofa next to him, "Why don't you sit down, tell me what magazine you really work for and then we can start this interview."

"You-," Clara paused in disbelief, "You still want to do the interview even though I lied to you?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Well, you're here now. I already kind of confessed I find you pretty. What I can say? Even a famous rockstar has a weakness."

He smiled at her, that lovely smile that was almost a smirk and has so far adorned many covers of many magazines and it made Clara's knees grow weak. Quickly she sat down next to him even though she kept a little more distance between them than she would have liked.

"MusicMe," she replied eventually.

"I'm sorry?" the Doctor asked, looking at her is if he had taken her answer for an ambiguous offer.

"That's the name. MusicMe. It's a small indie magazine," Clara confessed, "I'm sorry I lied to you and your manager. I didn't think he would give me the interview otherwise."

The Doctor giggled. "Quite right. You're a clever one, Clara Oswald. So, ask away."

Clara felt a little confused when he suddenly bent forward but her confusion was lifted when he retrieved tobacco from under the sofa and started rolling a cigarette. As if in trance she watched his hands move around with a grace that she had so far only seen on him while playing his guitar. It took her a moment to realize that the Doctor had now finished making the cigarette, discarded it, and that he was staring at her staring at him.

"Oh, yes, the questions," Clara said nervously, retrieving her phone from her pocket and started the recording, "Uhm, what inspires you to write a song?"

The Doctor smirked at her. "You."

Ignoring how much her pulse increased Clara paused the recording again. "Please, if you don't want to do the interview, just say so. Don't make me jump through unnecessary hoops."

He licked his lips and leaned back on the sofa, again making Clara all too aware of how little he was actually wearing. He was practically putting himself on display and if his intention had been to mess with her mind he was definitely succeeding. The Doctor parted his legs just a little and raised his arms to his head, tousling his already wild hair a little more before resting his hands in his neck.

"I'm only answering truthfully. I'll definitely write a song about you, Clara Oswald," the Doctor replied sincerely.

Finally Clara tore his gaze away from him, hiding how much she was blushing and laughing nervously. "Okay, but generally, what inspires you to write a song?"

"I could write about your dark eyes and your lovely hair, those cute little dimples when you smile. About how much I would like to taste those lips," he barely even whispered that last part, his voice husky and dark as he leaned closer and Clara could feel his breath hot on her skin.

She cleared her throat and quickly scooted over, a little further away from him in an attempt to escape her own arousal. Right next to her was the Doctor, a famous rockstar, practically naked and hitting on her. Clara wanted nothing more than to jump him right then and there – until the interview came back to her mind.

"So, erm, are there any new projects you're working on at the moment? A new studio album perhaps?" she asked, trying to sound matter-of-factly but failed miserably at that.

"No," the Doctor replied, "But there is something else I wouldn't mind working on."

He raised his hand over her thigh, letting his fingertips wander up step by step until they had reached the hemline of her skirt. She let out a gasp when he slid his hand between her legs, teasing her through the fabric of her already damp knickers.

"The interview," she croaked, trying to make him see reason but at the same time she spread her legs a little further apart for him. The sizzling hot, burning feeling between her thighs was growing and when she opened to eyes to look at him she realized that it wasn't the only thing. Under the thin fabric of his underpants she saw the defined outline of his erection that was only waiting to plunge inside of her.

"I'll answer every single question that you have and more," he promised, his dark voice coming closer to her ear, "But right now I have one hell of a headache and I'm so goddamn hard and the only thing that can help with both is either my own hand or what's between your legs. Tell me, which is it today?"

When Clara turned around to look at him she knew she had lost her mind. She leaned forward and crushed their lips together without thinking and the Doctor was only too eager to kiss her back, biting down on her bottom lip as he did so while pulling her on top of him. Clara pressed herself down against his crotch, feeling the heat of his arousal so distinctively against her own sex even through the clothing that it almost drove her mad. The Doctor's lips left hers only moments later to trail down her throat, a moan escaping her mouth when he sucked a little harder on that spot just above her collarbone. Surely it would leave a mark, something to remember him after she had left his house.

Suddenly Clara let out a squeal as he bent her over backwards and she held on tight to him while his hand reached for something on the ground behind her. He threw the condom on the sofa next to them before he busied himself with her clothing, pulling her jumper over her head and unhooking her bra as quickly as she had never seen anyone else do before.

"I wanna be inside of you, Clara Oswald," he breathed before he kissed her again and she moaned into his mouth, the only response she was capable of at this moment.

They quickly ridded themselves of the rest of their clothing and a smirk appeared on her lips when she saw his cock spring free.

"Like what you see?" he asked mischievously and there was no denying that she did. He was big and beautiful and the tingling in her own sex only increased at the thought of riding him. She reached for the condom and unwrapped it unceremoniously before she placed the rubber between her lips and bent down. The Doctor moaned passionately, his hands anchoring at the roots of her hair to hold her exactly where she was and she repeated the movement, slowly sucking his shaft back into her mouth.

"Oh, don't stop," he begged but Clara was determined to get something out of this meeting as well. She straddled his lap. "Or that, yes. That's fine, too."

Clara reached for his cock and guided him to her entrance. She watched as the Doctor closed his eyes while she slid down on top of him. His hands closed around her, both coming to rest on her hips, ready to guide her when she started to move. Slowly at first, steadily, only just getting used to how big he felt inside of her and how good and how. . .

"Oh," she murmured once his whole length was inside of her, filling her up completely.

"D'ya like it?" the Doctor asked breathlessly, beginning to move to meet her rhythm.

"Yes," Clara replied cause everything else would have been a lie. She was loving it, increasing their speed a little, driving herself down on top of him, "Fuck yes."

It was anything but what she had expected to do during the interview but, God, did he feel good as he used his hand to push her down onto his steel hard cock while the other had found its way to her clit, rubbing at the same increasing pace, prompting her to grind against it.

"Fuck, you're so wet, Clara Oswald," he groaned as he thrust up inside her a little harder now, "I want you to come for me."

"Yes," she keened as he plunge a little deeper still, hitting that spot that made her moan his name right before he moved out of her almost completely just so they could repeat the movement over and over, the friction of it almost driving her wild as she rode him mercilessly. She was propping herself up against his chest, the sweat starting to glisten on his skin, making it hard for her to find something to hold on to.

Clara dug her nails into his skin and it made the Doctor cry out.

"Can't. . . much longer," he panted, losing control over their rhythm just like she was while the bittersweet pleasure of her orgasm was beginning to build up inside of her. And then, when he thrust into her again it took over and crashed over her body like a wave while he filled her up, the sweetness of it almost utterly overwhelming. Only in the back of her mind was she aware of how he whimpered beneath her when she clenched her walls around him and he came before his movements stilled completely.

"Fuck," he muttered breathlessly as she removed herself from him and sank down on the sofa. He discarded the used condom by throwing it with the rest of the rubbish of last night's party. And then the Doctor burst into laughter. "That was a lovely interview."

Clara frowned at him. "Hey, you said you'd give me all the answers afterwards. Don't you dare breaking that promise now," she said angrily.

Still the Doctor laughed. "Don't you worry, Clara Oswald," he bent forward and placed a swift kiss to her lips, "I won't leave you hanging but I _do_ need a shower first. Or do you want me to talk about what an amazing fuck you are all through your questions?"

"I suppose not," Clara replied with a small shrug.

Suddenly the Doctor's eyes were back on her, scanning her from head to toe. "Now that I come to think of it. You look like you could do with a shower, too," he said with a wink, "Shall we?"


	10. Nightmares

_Yes-that-is-my-name from Tumblr made me write this. The Doctor is having a nightmare and Clara comforts him._

 **Nightmares**

The Doctor rarely slept. He simply didn't need as much sleep as his human companion next door but in the past few weeks something else had kept him from sinking back into the pillows and seeking the peaceful oblivion of a good night's rest, something dreadful and much more terrifying. He dreamt of Clara. It was as if in his dreams the original truth about her came to light, the truth he was trying to deny, trying to forget while they were running, chased by aliens, hunting the next adventure as soon as the last one had ended. Yet he knew, deep in his hearts, that Clara wasn't alright, that something would happen to her. Eventually. The Doctor had tried to talk to her about it, he had warned her that her recklessness was dangerous, he knew that the seeds of depression had started to sprout inside of her ever since Danny's death. Clara lied to him about it, and even though he recognized the lies for what they were, he ignored them.

 _The Doctor was standing at the top of the tower, right outside the king's throne room – if they called him a king on this planet. He hadn't really bothered to ask while officially being greeted as a guest. Not that he wanted to be here at all. He and Clara had landed on this vast, dark planet that seemed to be stuck in the middle ages by pure chance. Everything was made out of rock, the castle tower, the people's homes, because they had nothing else, not even direct sunlight. As the Doctor made his way downstairs he glanced out of one of the windows in passing and stopped when he noticed that a crowd had gathered below the tower. Almost ready to dismiss it and move on he suddenly caught a glimpse of what was drawing the attention of everyone and it made his hearts stand still. Before he had even made up his mind about it the Doctor's feet had broken out into a run and they didn't stop until he had arrived downstairs, his brain trying to discard what he thought he had seen all the way down. No, it wasn't real. It was his fears playing a trick on him. It was this place playing a trick on him._

 _As the Doctor pushed his way through the crowd he could hear some of the locals mutter. "She jumped, I've seen it with my own eyes," said one, while the other protested "No, no, she fell. It was an accident."_

 _He didn't care who was right and who was wrong when his eyes rested on the body lying on the floor – Clara's body. For a moment he thought his knees would give way under him and his entire body went numb while the Doctor sank to the ground next to Clara. He knew that she wasn't breathing, he knew that she wasn't alive and while his gaze wandered over her twisted limbs the chatter around him grew louder and louder and the Doctor pulled her closed and wrapped his arms tightly around her. When he was holding on to Clara while she had already let go of this world minutes ago the chatter turned into screaming._

"Doctor!"

He jerked awake and sat up in bed, his breathing fast and ragged as he almost bumped heads with Clara.

 _Clara._

By instinct he reached out and held on tight to her arm, a feeling of relief washing over him when he realized she was warm. And alive. And unharmed. It had been a dream, a nightmare and the thought of what he had seen made him nauseous. The look of her large, friendly eyes staring lifelessly at him was edged into his memory and he knew that one day it would come to that. One day he would be holding her just like he had held her in his dream.

"You were screaming, I just wanted to see if you were okay," Clara told him, her voice calming him instantly. Maybe someday it would happen. But not tonight. Not now.

"Nightmare," he replied breathlessly and swallowed when suddenly the Doctor found Clara's arms around his neck and she was hugging him tightly.

"Clara," he breathed nervously, "Wh-what are you doing?"

"It's a hug. Just accept it," she whispered and he could hear her smile through her voice. Reluctantly the Doctor laid his arms around her and it felt oddly nice and comforting to hold on to her like this, especially because he knew that time was flying by and she was slipping away from him.

"It's no surprise you have nightmares," Clara said after a moment, "All the things you've seen, the battles you've fought. That would get to anyone. Wanna tell me what it was about?"

For a moment the Doctor considered it. He considered telling her about his fears, his worries about her, telling her to be careful, to watch her every step because he couldn't lose her. Not like this. Not ever.

"No," he replied eventually, "Like you said. Old demons."

Finally Clara let go of him and sank down in the pillow next to him, turning to stare at his ceiling. He glanced up as well. After his last regeneration he had redecorated the bedroom so it looked like he was sleeping under the stars but it had been so long that he hadn't really looked at it in a long time, almost forgetting what a beautiful and calming sight it was.

"Can I have that in my room, too?" she asked him after a shooting star had fallen across the artificial sky.

"Of course," he replied, "I'll set the TARDIS up in the morning."

The Doctor turned to look at Clara, her presence making him feel better and yet not quite forget about the dream.

"I can sleep here if you like," Clara whispered as if reading his thoughts, "When I was a kid and had nightmares I would crawl into my parents' bed. It's easier once you're no longer alone. The dream fades."

Slowly the Doctor lay back down, thinking that she was probably right. With every passing minute he grew more and more aware that his dream had been nothing but that – a bad nightmare that he would forget about eventually. Clara reached out and took his hand, squeezing it on her own while she sighed sleepily.

"You can take me to a nice place tomorrow," she mumbled, "Woodstock. Or that planet where the inhabitants never stop laughing."

The Doctor cocked his eyebrows. "There's no such planet."

She chuckled lightly. "How would you know? Maybe you just haven't found it yet?"

He closed his eyes and smiled. "Alright. Let's go looking for that planet tomorrow," he agreed and with Clara's hand in his own he slowly drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


	11. Communicate

_The TARDIS translation circuit is broken. The Doctor doesn't speak English. But there are three words that the two of them still understand perfectly despite their communication failure._

 **Communicate**

When Clara stepped into the TARDIS on another Wednesday afternoon she had expected it to be like any other Wednesday. Some talk about what they had both been up to, visiting a lovely planet that would turn out to be dangerous, running, some more running, maybe another planet followed by leisure time inside the space ship.

"Take me somewhere nice!" Clara demanded instantly once the door has closed behind her. She dropped her bag and jacket on a chair and smiled at the Time Lord in front of her. He was wearing his ridiculous pyjama trousers again and Clara hated to admit that they were starting to grow on her. "You know you look like an overgrown kid in those, right?"

When the Doctor opened his mouth however all that came out sounded like complete gibberish. Clara frowned at him.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," she said as she stepped closer, thinking her ears might be damaged after listening to screaming kids all day.

"Gfiebl vfiolahtn jjsal."

Clara stopped and stared at him. His voice hadn't changed, it was definitely her Doctor's voice but what he said made no sense at all.

"Doctor, what is going on?" she laughed, that tiny, insecure laugh she always did when she was confused and not quite sure what was happening around her.

"Gfiebl vfiolahtn _jjsal_!" he said and flapped his arms around helplessly. Something was wrong, Clara just didn't know what.

She folded her arms in front of her chest and looked at him for a long moment. The Doctor only stared back, still appearing to be slightly helpless. She also glanced around the ship but it seemed to be normal otherwise.

"Can you understand what _I'm_ saying?" Clara asked him because it seemed the next obvious move. If he sounded like a madman to her, maybe it was the other way around. Yet the Doctor never replied, only looked at her. Well, that settled it then.

Not knowing what else to do Clara walked back towards the chair and retrieved her notebook and pen from her bag before she handed it to the Doctor. If he couldn't talk properly, then he would have to write it down instead. Clara looked at him while signing for him to write down what was going on before she handed both notebook and pen to the Time Lord.

He took it from her eagerly and instantly started scribbling but as soon as Clara glanced over his shoulder she realized that it was an utterly pointless idea. He wasn't _writing_. He was drawing those Gallifreyan circle signs that were all over the space ship as well.

Clara groaned in annoyance. "I can't read your weird Gallifreyan symbols, why don't you-"

She broke off when it was beginning to dawn on her. Clara couldn't understand the Doctor. The Doctor couldn't understand Clara. The TARDIS wasn't translating the Gallifreyan signs he was writing down. There was only one possible explanation for this mess: the translation circuit was broken. And apparently the Doctor didn't speak a single word of the English language.

Clara grabbed the Doctor by the arms and turned him so he looked right at her before she starting to sign. She made a flapping move with her thumb and the rest of her fingers to indicate talking, then pointed towards the console before she pretended to snap an imaginary something in two. _Is the TARDIS translation circuit broken?_ The Doctor started nodding frantically. Okay, so she was right.

Clara glared at him. "2000 years of travelling to Earth and you don't speak a single word of English?" she asked him, her voice showing how unimpressed she was even though the Doctor couldn't make out what she was so disappointed about.

The Doctor pointed at himself, then to the floor before he made a couple of weird moves with his hands. It took Clara a moment to understand what he was trying to tell her.

"Oh, you'll try to fix the circuit," Clara realized before she gave him two thumbs up, "Yeah, you do that. I'll go and. . . make some tea."

She held an imaginary tea cup and pretended to take a sip while the Doctor looked at her approvingly before he made his way downstairs to where he was usually tinkering with his time machine.

Clara walked off in the direction of the kitchen and once she had opened the cupboard she was quickly reminded of how big a problem the broken translation circuit really proved to be. All the labels on all the boxes were written in Gallifreyan symbols. Not knowing what else to do she drew the first from out of the cupboard and sniffed.

"Ew!" Clara exclaimed and quickly held the box away from her nose. She had no idea what it was but it was most certainly not tea. The second box was filled with coffee beans and finally, when she opened the third, she was greeted by the sight of teabags.

Two mugs of tea in her hand Clara made her way back and found the Doctor lying under the TARDIS engines like under car, tinkering with his complicated time machine. She cleared her throat, causing him to look up before Clara gave him a warm smile and handed him one of the mugs.

"How's it going?" she asked nodding towards the machine.

The Doctor shrugged in reply. "Hiegsleebf."

"Mh, not so well, I see."

As she sank down to the floor next to him the Doctor stared at her in confusion, obviously at a loss as to what he was supposed to to now and all of a sudden Clara couldn't hold it back any longer. She started to laugh. The entire situation seemed ridiculous to her. She had known the Doctor for so many years now and suddenly they failed to communicate thanks to a broken part of the TARDIS. Then, after a moment, the Doctor started laughing, too. They sat there for a long while, just smiling and sipping their tea in silence and Clara was starting to get used to the situation. It wasn't all too bad and the Doctor would eventually fix it. In the meantime they would just have to communicate by flapping their arms around, which looked more than just a little funny on her favourite stick insect.

"I love you, you know that?" Clara asked, still smiling. She had felt that for him for a very long time now but she would never have said it if it hadn't been for their communication failure. The Doctor wouldn't appreciate her saying it, even though he probably knew. Just like she knew what he felt for her in his Time Lord hearts.

Then suddenly the Doctor didn't seem so confused anymore as his eyes widened. No. He couldn't speak English. Surely he hadn't understood _that_?

"Hae baoelzy tyme," he replied hesitantly before he cleared his throat and stared down at his own feet.

Clara's heart was hammering inside her chest as she somehow understood the meaning of his words. Not thinking about it any further Clara leaned forward until their lips carefully touched. She was half expecting the Doctor to turn away, to jump up, run and hide somewhere inside his space ship but to her surprise he didn't do any of these things. Instead he parted his lips for her and the little peck soon turned into a full blown kiss. Well, at least they had found a way to communicate that worked a lot better without talking.


End file.
